In his previous life, he was the son of a high-ranking official. In this one, he is less than a stray dog at the feet of the great clans. No System, no divine weapon falling from the sky.
In this meat grinder where “the highest ranks are never open to the poor,” the embroidered soles of a noblewoman from the Cui family are smeared with the crushed bones of slaves, and a careless joke from the powerful can bury a thousand people alive.
The modern knowledge he once took pride in earns him only a whipping from the aristocratic clans, the lash dipped in salt water.
Fight head-on, and he dies. Chen Cheng swallows the blood-soaked dirt and chooses the darkest path: keep his head down. He tempers modern political strategy and psychology into poisoned blades, hiding them behind the most abject kowtows.
He keeps his head down for twenty-seven years.
He survives the Northern Zhou's destruction of Qi, outlives Emperor Wu of Zhou, and watches as the woman he loves is driven to the brink by the rules of the great clans. He grits his teeth until they shatter in his mouth, yet still smiles more obediently than anyone before the powerful.
Until the fourth year of Renshou, deep in the Sui palace, when the once-arrogant Guanlong clans kneel outside the hall, trembling.
And the former war slave stands before the imperial bed, coldly watching Emperor Wen of Sui gasp for breath as he calmly hands a bowl of poison to the crown prince, Yang Guang.
“Go in peace, Your Majesty. This servant will bury those cannibalistic clans along with you.”
